Enigma
by Fuzzbug
Summary: Sequel to Stranded. It's been four months since the attack on Mount Everest, but General Yang hasn't finished with International Rescue yet, which means Scott and Alan are in for a tormenting experience.CHAPTER 6 UP!
1. Chapter 1

Enigma

Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Gerry Anderson, except General Yang, Sergeant Lee, Dr Smith and Dr White

Thanks to Nevair for beta reading this for me

It had been four months since Scott and Alan had been shot down on Mount Everest; four months of rest and recuperation to allow their injuries to fully heal. But it hadn't been easy. Alan moaned a lot, complaining about the pain in his chest from his broken ribs and the gunshot wound. No one said anything though, how could they? After all, Alan had nearly died at least twice.

He was extremely uncomfortable, especially when it came to sleeping. Due to his ribs Alan was forced to sleep sitting up so as not to risk his lung collapsing. Breathing caused incredible pain, but he couldn't stop breathing, could he?

Luckily, his ribs were healed after two months and he could breath easily again. He also didn't have to worry about the risks a sneeze or cough could have.

Scott however, was an entirely different patient altogether. He was the most stubborn person you could ever hope to meet. He refused to stay cooped up in bed all day, which wasn't easy considering his broken arm and leg, which meant that he had to rely on a wheelchair that he loathed with a passion.

He gave his grandmother hell during his recovery period with his disappearing act, usually getting his younger brothers into trouble in the process. Scott would threaten his siblings with bodily harm if they didn't get him away from the house for at least five minutes.

It got so far that even Jeff threatened to drag his eldest son to the sickbay, strap him to the bed, and lock him in there if he didn't do as he was told and stay in bed.

As soon as his leg was healed Scott was up and about like a sugar-high child. All the energy that had been locked away inside him suddenly came out in one big, long rush.

He spent most of the time bossing his brothers around, and keeping an eye on Alan whom he had become closer to since the accident. He also spent a lot of time in Thunderbird one's hangar.

Due to having two members of International Rescue off duty, Brains and Tintin hadn't been able to repaint Thunderbird one, so you could imagine Scott's surprise and Virgil and Gordon's horror when they discovered that Thunderbird one was still covered in polka dots.

"What the hell did you do to my 'Bird!" Scott shouted when he saw it.

Gordon paled and Virgil looked like he was about to throw up. "Well you see Scott," Gordon began, "we were really bored and…"

"And you just decided to paint an impression of Mr. Blobby on my Thunderbird?" Scott finished his brother's sentence.

"Oh no Scott," Virgil protested. "Besides, Mr. Blobby's spots were all yellow, these are multicolored."

Scott glared at him. "And that makes it alright, does it? I can't believe you two!"

Gordon began to laugh, "Well at least everyone will be able to see you coming."

"You'll see my fist coming in a minute," Scott threatened.

His younger brothers couldn't help it, they burst out laughing.

Well Scott hadn't been a captain in the air force for nothing, and when he gave orders you obeyed.

He commanded his brothers to repaint Thunderbird one and that he would inspect it himself.

Two hours later Thunderbird one was as good as new and it gave Scott great pleasure to watch Virgil and Gordon repainting his precious 'Bird while he stood over them.

"Do you have to stand there like that?" Gordon asked as he painted Thunderbird one's base, "and do we have to use paint _brushes? _My arm aches! Couldn't we just spray the paint on like normally?"

"Nope, I think a job looks much better when you've done all the work yourself."

"But what about the top half? We can't fly up there!"

"I'll think of something."

"Oh yeah," Virgil muttered. "I'll get Thunderbird two and fly up there shall I?"

"Nah, your bulk of a 'bird wouldn't fit in here," Scott grinned.

"_Bulk of a 'bird!"_ Virgil was flabbergasted. His brother had just insulted his lady! "At least my 'bird doesn't look like it has a severe case of the chicken pox!"

Scott scowled. Gordon began to laugh again. "Look on the bright side Scott, at least once you get the chicken pox you can't get it again."

In the end it was decided to spray the paint on, but to make up for it, Scott had Virgil and Gordon clean the entire hangar inside out.

They were just sweeping the floor when the klaxon went off.

"FREEDOM!" Gordon bellowed, bolting through the door, his elder brothers hard on his heels.

"What have we got, Father?" Scott asked as they reached the lounge.

Jeff was getting details from John in Thunderbird five. "An oil factory has exploded in Gobi desert."

Both Scott and Alan looked uncomfortably at one another, obviously thinking the same thing: 'of all the continents, it had to be Asia; the very place where we nearly lost our lives.'

But they couldn't let that stop them; people needed their help, depended on their help.

"Scott, take Thunderbird one and make a rendezvous for the danger zone. John will give you the coordinates once you're airborne." He turned to Virgil; "Take Thunderbird two with pod three and the Firefly, Gordon and Alan will accompany you."

His sons replied with a chorus of "FAB's" and proceeded towards the entrances to the hangars.

As the wall rotated, Scott found himself hoping that he didn't have to fly over Mount Everest.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Hood stared at the muscular man in front of him, face set in a heavy scowl. "How do you know this will work, General Yang?"

The general grinned menacingly. "Trust me it will work, I know it will. From what you've told me International Rescue wouldn't miss a rescue like this. And when we have hold of them all the technology will be ours, fifty-fifty. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"Excellent. Now, when International Rescue get there Sergeant Lee and Dr Smith will be ready for them."

"Fantastic."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird one, I have arrived at the danger zone."

"FAB Scott, we're thirty-five minutes behind you, we're going as fast as we can."

"FAB. And Virg…?"

"Yeah?"

"Go faster."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Hidden behind a sand dune, Sergeant Lee and Doctor Smith watched through binoculars as the sleek silver aircraft landed in front of them.

"What a fantastic machine," the doctor commented. "The general will be very pleased to have it."

"Indeed," replied Sergeant Lee. He was busy staring at the dark haired pilot who had emerged from the craft. He looked strangely familiar…..

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"What have we got?" Virgil asked as he, Gordon and Alan emerged from the recently landed Thunderbird two.

"There's been an explosion in the main generator room. Some technitions were working in there and have become trapped by the flames. Virgil, I need you take the firefly and put out the fire, and then Gordon will follow you to get the technitions out of there. Alan will need to stay out here to help when they come out." Scott explained the situation and the plan to his brothers in true commander mode.

"Sounds like a plan, Scott," Gordon agreed. He went to get his protective suit on, while Virgil went to release the Firefly.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Ok Scott, the fire's out, send Gordon in."

"FAB Virg," he turned to his younger, "Ok Gordon, in you go and be careful."

"Always."

Alan watched his older brother enter the building, carrying his hand-held scanner. He turned to Scott. "And then there were two."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Do we have to take all of them?" Doctor Smith asked, his eyes still locked behind the binoculars he held in his hand.

"No, the general said to bring only two."

"Those two?"

"They're the easiest."

Sergeant Lee reached behind him and pulled out two tranquilizer guns, one of which he handed to the doctor. "I'll shoot that one, you shoot the other."

"Very well."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Gordon Tracy to mobile control, the victims are coming out now."

"FAB"

Scott turned to Alan and was about to tell to meet them, when a sharp pain shot through his leg. He looked down and was surprised to see a dart protruding out of his thigh.

Alan's eyes stared in horror as his older brother crumpled unconscious to the floor.

"Scott!" Alan sank to his knees to check his brother. Putting his first two fingers of his right hand against Scott's throat he was relieved to find a pulse.

He was about to call Virgil, when he heard footsteps behind him. Spinning around, he was surprised to find two men behind him, both carrying a tranquilizer gun. One of them was dressed in what looked like a typical medical uniform: long white coat, dark trousers, etc. The other was dressed in a military uniform.

The Doctor-or whatever he was-raised the gun. "Sleepy time Blondie."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Where are they?" Virgil looked around where his older and youngest brother should have been.

Virgil and Gordon had become worried that something was wrong when Alan hadn't met them at the entrance to help with the victims.

Both had tried, at least three times, to call them on their wrist coms but to no avail; neither of them was answering.

Scott and Alan were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

**AN:** This chapter is mostly about Scott; Alan will face their villains' wrath in the next chapter, that's a promise!

Thanks to Nevair for beta reading this for me

"What do you mean they're gone?" Jeff Tracy slammed his fist down on his wooden desk, while glaring at the portrait of his second eldest son.

Virgil looked with apprehension at his father, wishing he would calm down. He knew he was only worried, hence the temper, but that still didn't help the terrible situation they were in.

"When we came out of the factory, they were nowhere to be found. But we did discover two sets of footprints -not Scott or Alan's- and drag marks. My guess is that Scott and Alan were knocked out somehow and then dragged somewhere, possibly to some sort of transportation."

"Mmm, you could be right son. Listen, I want you and Gordon to return to base." Jeff replied.

"What! No way! I have to look for Scott and Alan, Father!" Virgil made him self perfectly clear who he thought were the more important people under these circumstances: his brothers.

However Jeff wasn't prepared to let him do that; not yet anyway. "No, son, its better that you return to base. Like you said you don't know where your brother's have been taken. The best thing to do is to return here, and then we can think of a better plan."

He heard his son reply with a rather reluctant "FAB."

Virgil cut the communications and turned to find his younger brother standing behind him. "Hey Gordy," he tried to sound reassuring. "Father wants us to return to base."

"But Virgil, we have to look for them!" Gordon sounded desperate. "I don't want to lose them…not again….not after Everest."

Virgil felt a lot of sympathy towards his red-haired sibling. After the accident on Mount Everest Gordon had taken it hard that his younger brother -and best friend- had almost died on the operating table. The thought of something happening to Scott and Alan again was unbearable.

"Look Gordon, we'll find them, I promise. But we need to return to base so a better plan can be thought up. Ok?"

Gordon still didn't sound so sure, but he agreed anyway, "ok."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

There was something cold and hard around his neck. Whatever it was was heavy; heavy enough that he could hardly hold his head up. He automatically went to lift his hands to remove it when he realized they were trapped behind his back, chained together.

Struggling to lift his head, he opened his eyes, trying to take in his surroundings. He blinked a couple of times as his blue eyes searched the room he was in.

The room was completely made of stone and was empty, save for him. He realized that he was positioned in the center of the room. He guessed that whatever was around his neck was chained to the ceiling, because every time he went to step forward the chain would jerk suddenly, almost choking him.

Suddenly the door opened and a muscular man walked in. He was of Asian origin and was dressed in a military uniform.

The man walked up to the prisoner and stared him in the face. "Ahh, you're awake, good. I was beginning to think I wouldn't have the chance to have a nice _chat _with you." The man's voice was deep and menacing, and he realized by the patch on his uniform that he was listening to a general talking.

He didn't like the way this general had said the word "chat", but he tried not to let it show. "What do you want? What have you done with my brother? If you've hurt him in any way, I swear….."

The general began to laugh, his chuckles echoing off the stone walls, emphasizing the emptiness of the room. He began to walk around his prisoner, eyeing him up and down like a lion circling its prey. "Let me guess, arrogant, dominant, and protective,_ you_ must be Scott Tracy. Am I right?"

Scott sneered, "Your intelligence astounds me," he replied sarcastically. "How did you know my name?"

"Oh it wasn't that hard," replied the general, his tone boasting. "All I had to do was find someone who knew about your organization. I found the perfect person when I discovered the Hood."

As if on cue the door opened and International Rescue's oldest enemy entered the room. "He is awake then General Yang? Good, that gives us a chance to knock him out again."

"I should have known a slime ball like you would be involved," Scott snarled. He looked the general up and down in disgust. "So you finally decided that you're too stupid to take us on yourself?"

The Hood growled and began to advance on his prisoner, but the general held him back. "Patience, you'll get your chance."

The Hood glared at Scott, and then rounded on his partner. "General Yang, you don't know what this organization has put me through, _especially_ him. I've faced more car wrecks and life threats because of this bastard forcing me off the road! _And,_ may I add, I was _this_ close to hijacking the Zero X until he showed up! I want those plans for the International Rescue craft, but most of all I want it's operatives to die slow and painful deaths." He continued to glare at Scott, "_very_ slow and painful deaths."

"And they will," General Yang assured the Hood. "But first we have to get those plans."

"Don't kid yourselves," Scott snarled. "I wouldn't give you the plans for the crafts if my life depended on it."

"Oh but your life does depend on it; your life, and the lives of your family," the general replied, laughing maliciously.

"If you go near my family, it'll be the last thing you ever do."

General Yang punched him hard in the stomach. Scott _'oofed' _and doubled over, the wind knocked out of him. "I wouldn't threaten me if I was you, or you won't see the next light of day!"

"I'm… so… scared, where's… my brother?" Scott struggled to get his breath back.

"Your brother is fine….for now," General Yang replied. "However if he isn't a good boy he'll get what your about to get."

"And what's that? A hug? Because if it's one of those, I really don't want it. I don't know what I might catch off you guys."

His crude remark was paid for when the Hood back handed him across the face. His head snapped to one side forcefully, the metal collar causing his neck to 'crack', the way it does when a person turns his or her head too quickly.

Scott licked his lips, tasting blood. "Remind me never to joke to you guys again."

By now General Yang was becoming impatient. "Tell me Scott, four months ago International Rescue saved two people trapped on Mount Everest, what happened to those people?"

"How do you know about that?" Scott asked.

"Because I was the one that ordered their jet to be shot down." General Yang's answer was filled with a cruel sense of pride.

Scott's eyes widened as realization dawned. This was the guy that had shot the jet down! This was the guy that had almost caused the death of him and his little brother!

Anger like he had never felt before rushed through Scott. If he could he would have lunged at the general on the spot, but at the moment he wasn't in a very good position to do so.

The eldest Tracy struggled to keep his rising temper in check. He didn't know what General Yang might do or say if he found out that Scott and Alan were the ones in the jet, but he had a strange feeling that whatever it was wasn't good.

"And what would you do if I told you?"

"Simple; I would kill them. I ordered those men to be eliminated, and I _never_ go back on an order."

'This guy's crazy,' Scott thought to himself. 'I can't let him find out the truth. Alan's life depends on it.'

Out loud he said: "That's a pity. Unfortunately we don't know where they are. After we rescued them we dropped them off at some hospital-can't recall which one though. We're a secret organization; we don't keep track of the people we rescue."

The general and the Hood stared at Scott, trying to figure out whether he was telling the truth or not.

Finally the general spoke. "I guess I'll have to find another way to find them then. But if I find out you've lied to me, I will personally see to it that your imminent death will be _incredibly_ painful."

"Enough!" The Hood shouted. "I've waited as long as I can, I want those plans!"

"Like I said, your not getting those plans if my life depended on it."

The Hood turned to the general, his eyes flashing with the impatience he felt. "He is really starting to annoy me! I think we should teach him a lesson."

"I totally agree with you," General Yang said. "Do you want to go first?"

"Oh no!" the Hood replied, his voice was strangely polite. "After you."

"How about we go together?"

"Very well."

Scott prepared to brace himself as two pairs of fists flew towards him. The first punch caught him squarely in the face, and he felt his nose crack. Blood poured out of it running down his chin, and dripping onto the stone floor.

He had just got over the dizziness of the first punch, when another was rained down on his face, just below his left eye. It was going to be swollen and bruised tomorrow, Scott was sure of that.

The Hood caught him around the throat in an iron grip. Scott began making gagging noises as he struggled to breath; his head flew from side to side in a futile attempt to throw off his enemy.

"Let him go!" General Yang cried. "How can we get those plans if you kill him?"

The Hood reluctantly let Scott go, and watched as their captive once again struggled to get his breath back.

No sooner had Scott found he could breath again, he was bombarded with a rage of punches from two pairs of fists; the force of them causing his body to rock violently.

The General moved behind him and grabbed his wrists in a tight hold.

Scott cried out in pain as they were forcefully snapped backwards, shattering the bones.

Finally the Hood clenched his fists together, creating one huge fist. He brought down hard on the side of Scott's head.

Scott's eye's rolled as his head fell forward as far as the collar would allow it to go.

Everything went black.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Alan Tracy listened as his older brother was beaten. He wished he could help him but chained like this, it was impossible.

The youngest Tracy knew that he would be next.

He hoped he would be prepared for it

**AN: There's my second chapter! Why do I feel so guilty that I've had my favorite character beaten up?**

**Alan's turn next! laughs evilly**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** _All characters belong to Gerry Anderson, except General Yang, Sergeant Lee, Dr Smith and Dr White._

_My beta reader for the first two chapters was the lovely Nevair. However, because I haven't updated this story since 2006 (for which I apologise profusely) I felt it unfair of me to suddenly contact her out of the blue. Therefore, any mistakes in this chapter are solely mine._

Chapter Three

Alan looked up as the door to his prison opened and two men stepped in. The young astronaut didn't recognise the first one, who was dressed in a military uniform that seemed to be covered in specks of crimson. He shuddered slightly as he made an assumption as to whom the blood had once belonged to and he silently prayed that his eldest brother was ok.

The second man, however, Alan did recognise. The Hood. His robust figure, bald head and piercing eyes seemed to dominate the room equally as much as his military partner did.

"Ah, Alan. You are awake I see," the man in uniform - a general from what Alan could see of his rank marking - came to stand a couple of metres away from him. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am General Yang and this is my associate the Hood, though I'm sure you two know each other already."

"Yes, I know him all right," Alan growled as he glared at both men. "What do you want with me and my brother?"

"It's quite simple really," the Hood replied. "We want the plans to your machines and…"

"We want you to tell us what happened to those two people in that jet which crashed into Everest a few months ago," General Yang continued. "Your brother was less than co-operative and we're hoping that you don't make the same mistake."

Alan glared at them. "I don't know what happened to them after I.R saved them and as to the plans to our machines, I think the words 'screw you' are in order."

General Yang tutted as he held a hand on the Hood's shoulder to prevent him from advancing on the prisoner. "That really is a shame, young Alan. I was hoping that you would be a little more sensible than your brother."

"Well I'm sorry to disappoint you gentlemen," Alan spat venomously, "but do you really think that I would tell you anything about the private lives of those we rescue or give you the plans to our machines?"

General Yang strode confidently forward, grabbed a handful of Alan's hair and yanked his head backwards. The young man gave a slight gasp of pain as he felt his entire scalp almost being ripped off and as the collar pressed tightly against his throat he also began to choke.

"Actually," the General hissed in his ear, "I was rather hoping you would."

"Unless, of course, you want your experience here to be rather painful," the Hood added, his eyes glowing with barely contained glee.

The General released his grip on Alan and stepped back. Alan took a couple of gulps of air to get his breath back and then sneered up at the men. "Guy's, I work in the rescue business. Do you know how many injuries - both severe and minor - I have endured during my job? A lot, so I'm rather use to pain. What makes you think that anything you do to me will make me talk?"

His remark was answered with the receiving of a strong right hook across his jaw, delivered menacingly by the Hood. Alan saw stars for a couple of minutes and tasted a mouthful of blood which he spat at his captors' feet, releasing a couple of now loose teeth in the process.

"We never said that the pain would make you talk," the Hood snarled. "But it would provide some entertainment for us though. I don't think I unleashed enough of my pent up anger on your brother."

"From what I heard, you must have unleashed quite a bit on him," Alan said. "If you've hurt him I swear to God, you will regret it."

"An admirable statement, Alan," General Yang complemented. "Though I would have expected that comment to come from Scott. After all, isn't it a big brother's job to look out for his younger siblings?"

"We look out for each other," Alan stated simply. "And that includes defending one another from black hearted fiends like yourselves."

"Well that's very noble of you Alan," the General said, "though I highly doubt any of your brothers will be able to save you from this!" He suddenly punched Alan the stomach and once again Alan found himself gasping for air as he doubled over in pain.

Now it was the Hood's turn. The Malaysian man drove his fist into Alan's left eye and it took all of the young agent's wits to keep from crying out in pain. There was slight crack and Alan guessed that he had just suffered from an indirect orbital floor fracture, aka a blow out fracture. The fact that he could still recall the name of it told Alan that he hadn't lost his wits…yet.

The next assault came from General Yang again, who had gotten hold of a hammer which had been flung in the corner of the room (how convenient). The militant hefted the tool and then swung it at Alan's knee-cap. The incredible force of the impact and the strength that the general had used, shattered his knee like glass.

This time Alan did cry out. A yell of hurt, anger and pain.

As the two mad men savoured this cry with satisfaction another, louder voice, from the next room punctuated the air.

"God damn you, leave him alone!"

The Hood and General Yang smirked at each other. "I never realised how thin these walls are," the General said. He handed the hammer to his partner. "Fancy a go?"

"I thought you would never ask." The Hood took the hammer before scrutinising his victim, deciding on which area of the body he could assault. After a few seconds of deliberation he finally made his decision and swung the hammer at Alan's right shoulder blade.

Again two loud voices filled the air; one of pain and the other of hatred.

………………………………**...................................................................................................................................................................................................................................**

Tracy Island

"What are we going to do, Father?" Virgil asked the question that was on everyone's lips. They had returned from the Gobi desert straight into a nightmare and were two men short, with no clue as to their whereabouts. "We have to get back out there and search for them!"

"Virgil, the Gobi desert covers over five hundred thousand square miles," Jeff pointed out. "That's a lot of area to cover, even in Thunderbird Two. Second, we don't even know if your brothers are still in that area. We need to find out when exactly your brothers were taken, as it will give us some indication as to the time difference between the kidnapping and your discovery that they were missing."

"We'll have to check the voice recordings for that, father," Gordon said.

"I was just getting to that." Jeff turned to John who was monitoring his family's situation from his position in Thunderbird Five. "John, can you play back the recordings from mobile control. We might be able to pick up some back ground noise that could help us."

"FAB." In just a few short moments the recordings were patched through.

"_Firefly to mobile control. Am about to commence with extinguishing."_

"_FAB, Virgil. Alan will be ready here when you bring the victims out. Initiate immediate contact if you run into trouble."_

"_Will do. Firefly out."_

After that the only noise for a while was the sound of Scott and Alan engaging in conversation. Then…

"_Gordon Tracy to mobile control, the victims are coming out now."_

"_FAB."_

A few more minutes passed in silence until Alan's panicked voice came over the airwaves.

"_Scott!"_

There was a very soft thudding sound and Jeff guessed that Scott had collapsed. He and the others listened as his youngest son checked for a pulse.

Suddenly another voice was heard. One that no one recognised and the sound of it sent chills through Jeff's heart.

"_Sleepy time Blondie."_

Another soft thud followed.

Jeff took a deep breath and ordered John to stop the recordings. He turned to Virgil and Gordon, who staring at him with mixture of shock and anxiety. "From what we've heard, we can establish that Scott and Alan were either knocked out or drugged. Was there any sign of a struggle boys?"

"No, Sir," Gordon answered. "None at all."

"I'm guessing that they were drugged," Virgil continued, "probably with a tranquiliser gun or something."

"What makes you think that, son?" Jeff asked.

"Because Scott's collapse just happened so suddenly. If they were knocked out it would require the kidnapper to be in close contact with them, and we would have heard something from one of them like, 'who are you?' or something along those lines."

"Who ever it was, was in close contact with Alan," Gordon pointed out.

"He or she probably sneaked up on him," Virgil replied. "Alan was most likely distracted checking on Scott."

Jeff nodded his head, seemingly in agreement. "John, what time was that unknown recording made?"

John made a quick check. "Two fifteen pm, Father."

"Ok. Virgil, what time did you discover that your brothers were missing?"

"Well after we got the victims sorted and out of the factory, it was about ten to three."

"That's thirty-five minutes," Jeff said. "Add the time we've been here and I say that they are probably out of the Gobi desert by now. That's if they left it in the first place, which I think they did. Were there any tyre tracks?"

Both Virgil and Gordon shook their heads.

"Very well. Then I believe they probably used a plane. It would make a getaway from the desert a lot easier."

"Wouldn't we have heard the plane?" Gordon asked.

"You may have done," Jeff agreed. "But remember that lots of planes fly over the Gobi desert, so it wouldn't have seemed suspicious to you until you realised that something was wrong and even then the thought that one of those planes could be carrying your brothers most likely didn't occur to you, right?"

"No sir. I was too shocked at Scott and Alan's disappearing act," Gordon answered.

"I still think we should check the area," Virgil said. "We may be able to find something."

"No Virgil," Jeff shook his head. "The only thing we can do now is wait for the call."

"The call?"

"Yes. I believe that whoever snatched your brothers wants something, probably the plans for our machines."

"And you think that they're going to call up with the demand?"

"I'll bet Tracy Island on it."

………………………………**....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................**

Somewhere.

Alan ached all over. His face hurt and his knee and shoulder was giving him agony. General Yang and the Hood had left approximately thirty minutes ago with the promise that they would be back.

"Why is this happening to us?" Alan asked himself. He glanced towards the wall. "I hope Scott's ok."

Almost as if he had been heard, a shout came through the walls. "Alan, are you ok?"

"Scott? Yea, I'm ok, broken and battered, but ok. How about you?"

"I've got bruises on my bruises and a couple of fractures, nothing major."

Despite the situation, Alan smiled. "So all in all we're both peachy?"

Scott had to chuckle at his brother's comment, though that proved to be a mistake as it transformed into a painful coughing fit.

"Scott?" Alan sounded nervous. "Scott, are you ok?"

"I'm…fine…kiddo," Scott gasped out.

"This is so unfair," Alan moaned.

"What's unfair?"

"I've only just got out of the infirmary and now Kyrano hasn't even had a chance to change the sheets yet, and I'm going to be back in there again."

"Well kiddo, if it's any consolation, I'll probably be joining you."

"Great. More time missing out on rescue missions." Alan paused. "Scott, how badly do you think these men want I.R? Do you think they'd kill us to get the plans?"

Scott didn't want to worry his younger brother, but realised that lying to him wouldn't help the situation, so he answered with as much honesty as he could.

"I don't know, Alan. I just don't know."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The Hood and General Yang were currently seated in an extravagantly decorated suite at the far end of their base. The room contained two black leather chairs, complete with solid gold framing and a highly polished pine desk, behind which General Yang was now seated.

"I think it's about time we let those other dogs at I.R know that we have their team mates, don't you?" the General suggested, brandishing a portable radio that he was holding casually in his grip.

"Would that really be a good idea?" the Hood enquired. "They could use that radio to track us here."

The general smiled and beckoned Dr. Smith over, who handed him small device.

"This little baby - when clipped to any communications device - will automatically block the signal and prevent the receiver from being able to track us down," General Yang explained. "It's been tested on even the most powerful of communicators and I have been reassured that it will work for this."

The Hood took the device and studied it. It was a tiny piece of equipment that resembled a ring. "How do you know that this thing will work?"

The general gestured at Dr. Smith. "Because I trust its inventor," he said. "Now give it to me and I'll show you how it works."

The Hood gave the device over to his partner, which was promptly placed over the top of radio's antennae and tightened into place. It began to emit a sharp beeping sound.

"Here goes nothing," the general commented as he lifted up the radio to his lips. "Calling International Rescue…"

………………………………**....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................**

Thunderbird Five.

"Calling International Rescue…"

By now John Tracy was use to these calls and he immediately began the automatic routine that was etched so deeply in his mind.

However, this call was to be different.

"This is International Rescue receiving you," John answered. "What is your emergency?"

"No emergency here, boy," came the casual reply. "But I understand that you Tracys are having a couple of problems of your own. Specifically, two missing family members, am I right?"

It took all of John's resolve not to snarl and rage in anger when he realised the identity of the caller. Instead he pressed the button that would allow the message to be broadcast straight to Tracy Island as well as here on Thunderbird Five.

"Who are you?" John demanded to know.

"You may simply refer to me as the general," the voice replied. "That's all you need to know…John Tracy."

John couldn't help it and started at the mention of his name. His skin - an already pale complexion - went even paler.

"How the hell do you know my name?" John asked. "Where did you find that out?"

"Simple. I simply aligned myself with your oldest and worst enemy," the General responded. "Believe me, he knows a lot about you and your brothers."

John's eyes narrowed. "The Hood."

That comment was received with a mocking laugh. "Well done, lucky guess."

"What do you two want?"

"Again, that is simple. First I want the plans to your lovely machines and secondly, I want to know what happened to those two men that you rescued from that jet at Mount Everest four months ago."

John was perplexed. "Why do you want to know that?"

"Because I want to make sure that they have been properly eliminated. I didn't order them to be shot and killed just for the fun of it. You see, John, I use to be a military man - as you can tell from my moniker - and I just hate it when my orders aren't followed through, it makes it difficult for me to sleep at night."

John couldn't believe that this monster had such a pathetic excuse for trying to kill two of his brothers! The more he thought about it, the more he considered that there might be something else to it, though he could check that up later, once he had tracked this asshole's location.

To the general, John said, "Look, I don't know what happened to those men; we don't keep track of our rescuees. As for the other request, there's no way in hell that we would give you the plans to our machines, especially after what you've done."

"That's a real shame, John," the general replied. "It looks I'm going to have to go to plan B."

"What's plan B?" John asked.

There was no response from the radio.

"Oi! What's plan B?" John raised his voice slightly.

It was no use because the general had cut him off.

………………………………**....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................**

Somewhere.

"What the hell is plan B?" the Hood asked after General Yang had finished making the call.

"Why my dear Hood," the general smiled. "Plan B is that we simply kick things up a notch with our 'guests'. If a few kicks and punches isn't going to convince them, then lets see how much _real_ pain they can handle. Do you like the sound of that?"

The Hood rubbed his hands in anticipation. He liked the sound of that indeed.

Seeing his partner's positive response, General Yang buzzed in two of his men. "Prepare our prisoners and bring them to room 13," he commanded.

With a salute his men went to perform their orders.

………………………………**....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................**

Tracy Island.

"Were you listening to all that, Father?" John asked.

"Every single word, John," Jeff answered. "We all did. Have you managed to track the location yet?"

"I was just about to," John replied. He turned his back to the monitor and began the process of tracking the radio signal's last known location.

It should have been a simple procedure; emphasis on the words, _'should have'._

The family watched as John stiffened, flew his hands over the controls again, and then whirled around to face them, a look of shock on his face.

"Father, it's not their!" John panicked.

"What do you mean, it's not their?" Virgil asked. "It has to be!"

"Well it's not," John replied. "I checked several times, they must have been blocking the signal somehow."

Jeff rubbed a hand over his face before saying, "Ok John, keep trying, maybe you might be able to override it."

John sighed and nodded. "FAB."

"Now what are we going to do?" Gordon asked.

"Hopefully John will be able to bring up the location," Jeff answered. "Otherwise, we'll have to wait until they call again."

"I hope Scott and Alan are faring ok," Tintin whispered quietly.

"Me too, honey, me too," Virgil replied, taking her hand.

………………………………**....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................**

Somewhere.

Unlike the suite, room 13 was a dismal looking place. The walls were constructed of cold stone and sharp drafts were whistling through the small gaps. Scattered around the room were some horrific looking pieces of equipment, some of which looked as if they hadn't been cleaned since they were last used.

Stripped from the waist up, both Scott and Alan had found themselves being dragged through the corridors to this room.

"Al, are you ok?" Scott asked as he took in his brother's appearance.

Alan's eye was squeezed shut and he was covered in bruises. His arm was hanging limply to one side.

"I'm ok," Alan replied, noting that his older brother didn't look much better than he did.

With two men each having tight grip on them, Scott and Alan watched as the door opened and the Hood and General Yang strolled in.

"Ah, gentlemen, are we ready to get really serious?" the general inquired.

"What are you on about?" Scott demanded. "Haven't you done enough?"

"Oh no." It was the Hood who answered. "I don't think we've done _nearly_ enough."

General Yang nodded at the Malaysian's answer before walking around the room and contemplating the equipment. He stopped in the centre of the room and looked up at the ceiling, where a hook and some rope were located.

Turning to his prisoners he curled a finger and beckoned Alan over. The blond found himself being pulled across the room until he came to a stop in front of the general.

"Tie him up to this," General Yang commanded, pointing at the hook, "then water him down."

Before Alan could realise what was happening, he found himself being unceremoniously flipped upside down. He attempted to kick out and struggle but it was no use and he soon found himself tied upside down to the hook. The men who has secured him returned with buckets of water, which they threw over him.

Trapped in the grasp of the other lackeys, Scott began to struggle and the men tightened their grip on his arms. They were a lot more heavily built than he was and his weakened state made it all but impossible to escape.

"What are you doing!?" Scott shouted. "You hurt him I swear to God I'll…"

"You won't do anything, dog!" the Hood snarled, "except watch us have some fun with young Alan here."

General Yang turned to one of the men. "Sergeant Lee, bring me the picana."

The sergeant nodded and left the room. He returned a couple of minutes later carrying a wand like object with a bronze tip and an insulated handle. It was connected to a control box and a car battery.

Sergeant Lee placed the equipment next to his boss and backed away.

The general picked up the wand and twirled it casually between his fingers, before turning on the car battery and altering the rheostat on the control box to the voltage he wanted.

The picana sparked slightly.

"Ok, Alan, are you going to tell me what I want to know?" the general asked, "or do I have to use this?"

Alan tried not to blanch as he stared at the device, before swallowing and responding with, "I…guess…you'll have to use that."

"I thought that might be the case," General Yang nodded, walking round Alan in a circle. He suddenly thrust the picana at Alan's head.

Alan let out a small cry as a shock rippled through his body. It was followed by another as the device connected to his stomach.

"Stop it!" Scott shouted as he watched the event unfold.

But instead of halting, General Yang merely bent down to the control box and again adjusted the rheostat.

This time when the picana touched his chest and the shock went through him, Alan's cry echoed throughout the room.

Seeing his little brother's pain, Scott once again began to struggle and shouted, "leave him alone you son of a bitch or I'll rip you to shreds!"

General Yang paused in his treatment of Alan. He turned to the Hood and handed him the picana. "Here, you have a go. I think I need to teach young Scott here some manners."

The general walked over to Scott who had been released from the grasp the lackeys. He contemplated attempting to make a run for it and try and rescue Alan. However, before he could even move, General Yang kneed him hard in the stomach.

The breath knocked out of him, Scott fell to his knees, clutching his abdomen. General Yang crouched down beside him and yanked Scott's head up by a fistful of hair so that they were looking at each other eye to eye.

"The only person about to be ripped to shreds around here," the general snarled, "is you." He clapped his hands to get the attention of the two men who had previously been holding Scott and were now watching Alan's predicament. "Take him" - he indicated Scott - "and put him on the drum. Let's see if having your flesh slowly grated off - piece by piece - will make you more eager to talk, shall we?"

………………………………**....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................**

**How's that for a quick update? I would like to take this opportunity to thank the people who have reviewed this story so far.**

**The picana is real device that was used in electrical torture.**

**Next chapter coming soon!**


	5. Chapter 5

This chapter has been re-uploaded. Hopefully it will come out right.

Chapter Five

The revolving drum was strange and nightmarish piece of equipment. At the centre was the part that was referred to as the drum. It resembled a barrel tipped on its side and hundreds of rusty spikes protruded out of it. At one end was the upper pillory in which the prisoner's head was locked in place and at the other end leather straps held the person's legs in place. The result was that the prisoner's upper body was pressed against the spikes. When the drum was rotated using the handle, it slowly grated the prisoner's skin.

At the sight of it, Scott's eyes widened in horror. He attempted to take a few retreating steps backwards but was pushed forward. The pilot struggled vigorously in the arms of the men and it took four of them to place him over the drum. Sergeant Lee held his head down while the pillory was locked in place, his legs were then tightly secured.

Once he was trapped the four men stepped back and General Yang approached. "Are you comfortable, Scott? No? Well that's too bad because you may be here for a while unless, of course, you answer my questions."

"I'll answer your questions when hell freezes over!" Scott growled, attempting to glare up at the man but unable to move his head.

"Now my dear boy, that's no way to respond," the general smiled. "I just want to know what happened to the men from the jet and I want the plans to your machines."

"No."

"Very well Scott, we shall do this the hard way." General Yang slowly began to rotate the handle, revolving the drum.

Scott hissed in pain as the spikes pierced his skin and were scraped up his body. It was like being slowly sliced by several knives. Small drops of blood trickled onto the stone floor.

"That looked like it hurt, Scott," General Yang said when the drum had gone a full three hundred and sixty degrees. "How about you just give up?"

"How about you kiss my ass?" Scott retorted.

With a shake of his head, the general slowly began to repeat the rotation of the drum and once again the spikes pierced Scott's skin, deepening his already existing wounds.

Alan, meanwhile, was close to passing out. The blood was rushing to his head, overriding his senses. There were burn marks on various areas of his body left by the picana and it seemed as if the Hood wasn't finished yet.

"Well Alan, it seems that you and your brother share a stubborn streak," the Hood boomed as he pressed the picana against Alan's forehead again.

Alan cringed in pain as another shock went through him. He just wished that the Hood would quit what he was doing and let him sleep. His eyes began to drift shut.

"And how is my dear niece, Alan?" the Hood asked. "I understand that you and Tintin are rather…close, shall we say?"

At the mention of his girlfriend's name, Alan's eyes snapped open. "You leave… Tintin… out…. of this!" he snarled.

"I wonder what her reaction will be when she discovers that her dear Alan is dead," the Hood continued, ignoring his captive's outburst. "I would really love to see her face crumble in grief when she sees your burnt and rotten corpse."

"Well…I hate…to break…this to you…Hood," Alan gasped out, "but…the…only corpse…she'll see…will be…yours…when I'm through…with…you."

"These are indeed brave words, Alan - foolish - but brave," the Hood said. He turned to a couple of the men standing watch. "Get me some more water. It looks like my friend here may be drying off."

The men left room and soon returned with a couple of buckets of water. The Hood stepped out of the way to allow them to drench Alan down one more. This, Alan knew, reduced the electrical resistance of his skin and thus increased the effects of the shocks.

"You don't look too good, boy," the Hood stated the obvious as Alan tried to shake the water droplets from his hair and then cringed when a wave of dizziness washed over him. "Perhaps I can help you with that."

The picana came in contact with Alan's lower stomach and the resulting shock jolted the young man back from the brink of unconsciousness.

"Where is your base located?" The questions began once more.

"Disney World."

Another shock coursed through his torso.

"I shall ask again: where is your base?"

"The cellar of…Buckingham….Palace."

Shocked again. It looked as if this was going to be a long evening.

………………………………**...................................................................................................................................................................................................................................**

Tracy Island.

Jeff Tracy had been pacing up and down his lounge for so long now that he was surprised that he hadn't worn a hole in the carpeting. John hadn't yet called back yet, leaving Jeff anxious that he would be unable to track the radio's location.

Just as he was thinking that he should give John a call to check on the progress, the eyes of his middle son's portrait began to light up.

"Go ahead John," Jeff answered, flicking the switch that would put him in contact with the communications satellite. He crossed his fingers in the hope that his son would bring him good news.

However, when he saw his son's tired and devastated face he knew that it wasn't going to be his day.

"I'm sorry father," John whispered. "I just can't seem to locate where the call came from. Someone or something on the other end is blocking it."

Jeff sighed. "You mean it's not tracking at all?"

"Well, that's the strange thing," John replied. "Thunderbird Five's tracker seems to work, however when it hits what could be the location it completely cuts off, before the place can be registered here. It keeps comes up with a message saying 'L.O.R. Activated. I haven't yet been able to find out what it stands for."

"It stands for the, uh, Location Obstruction Ring, uh, John," Brains answered, coming into the room. The scientist was carrying what looked like a metal suitcase.

"What on earth is the Location Obstruction Ring, Brains?" Jeff asked.

"It's an, uh, extremely, uh, powerful device shaped like an, uh, ring," Brains explained. "It is, uh, placed over any, uh, radio antennae and, uh, prevents the, uh, signal from being, uh, tracked. I believe it was, uh, created by a man named, uh, Doctor Gerald Smith."

"And where is this Doctor Smith now?" Jeff wanted to know.

"I'm afraid no one, uh, knows, I'm afraid," Brains replied. "He, uh, disappeared about five, uh, years ago, taking the, uh, device with him."

"Hmm," Jeff frowned, deep in thought. "This could mean one of three things: One: Dr. Smith is alive and he is the kidnapper. Two: Dr. Smith is dead and someone else is using the L.O.R, or three: Dr Smith is alive and could be working with someone who is using the device."

"Well there was no, uh, report of a, uh, body being, uh, discovered," Brains said.

"Ok, Brains," Jeff answered. "John, I need you to find out everything you can about this Gerald Smith. It may lead us to something."

"Yes sir," John said. "I'll start that now."

"Good man."

Once John had cut off, Jeff turned to Brains. "What's that suitcase you've got there? This isn't any time to be going on vacation!"

"No Mr, uh, Tracy, this is my, uh, latest invention. It is an, uh, temporal suitcase," Brains held it up so that his boss could see it.

"And what does this temporal suitcase do exactly?" Jeff took the invention and studied it.

"It's quite, uh, simple really," Brains said. "You see the, uh, fibres of the inner, uh, padding is made with, uh, tinitrine, a microscopic explosive. The number combination, uh, doubles as a, uh, timer. For example 506 is equal to, uh, five hours and, uh, six minutes."

"What happens when the timer hits zero?"

"The electrical circuit within the, uh, case's lid activates. The resulting, uh, electricity mixed with the, uh, tinitrine creates a small explosion. Not enough to, uh, destroy the case, but enough to obliterate anything that, uh, happens to be inside it."

"It sound like a great invention Brains," Jeff admired, "but why are you showing it to me now?"

"Because if the worst comes to the, uh, worst and we are forced to hand over copies of the, uh, plans to the, uh, machines, then we can place them in this, set the timer and, uh, well…"

"They'll be destroyed before they could be properly studied!" Jeff exclaimed.

"That is the, uh, basic idea, uh, Mr Tracy."

"Ok, if we are forced into handing over the plans to the Thunderbirds, they shall be put in this. But I'm hoping that it won't go that far and that we'll get the boys back before."

"Let's, uh, hope so Mr, uh, Tracy."

………………………………**....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................**

Somewhere.

Scott had lost count of the number of times that the revolving drum had been rotated. His skin felt like shredded wall paper, but he was determined not to give them anything.

"You're starting to get on my nerves, Scott," General Yang complained. "I think it's about time we raised the stakes a bit, don't you?"

"Do whatever the hell you like," Scott replied angrily. "I'm still not revealing anything."

"Whatever you say." The General motioned Sergeant Lee over. "Go and get me a couple of weights."

Once the sergeant had returned with the required weights, they were stacked on top of Scott's back, pushing his body even further into the spikes.

"Now let's try this again. What happened to those two men in that jet?" General Yang demanded, preparing to rotate the drum again.

"They got part-time jobs at Ben and Jerrys," Scott replied, bitterly.

It seemed as if Alan wasn't the only one prepared to give sarcastic answers.

"Fine," the general said. "I didn't want to do this….well, actually I did."

General Yang began to rotate the drum again and this time when the spikes pierced his skin, the pain was almost unbearable. The general had been right: it was like having his flesh slowly grated off and he was starting to feel nauseous.

"You'll be doing yourself a great favour if you just give up," General Yang stated. "And it would be a lot less painful for you."

"It'll be you feeling a lot pain when I get through with you!" Scott shouted.

"Empty words my boy, empty words."

The revolving drum began to make another full turn and Scott bit his tongue in an attempt to prevent himself from crying out.

Just as the drum came to a stop, Dr. Gerald Smith entered the room. He walked over to General Yang and spoke quietly in his ear.

Whatever it was that Dr. Smith was telling him made the general smile in sadistic glee.

"Are you sure it's ready to be used Smith?" the general asked.

"Yes sir. It has been tested to great effect on all of our test subjects…except humans," Dr. Smith replied. "I believe we are ready to enter that step."

"Excellent," General Yang said. He once again called Sergeant Lee over. "Go and untie Alan, take him to the medical room and treat his burns. I shall meet you there with his brother."

After Sergeant Lee went off to do his bidding, the general tuned to Scott and ordered two of his other men to release him.

After being unlocked from the drum, Scott found himself being pulled to his feet so that General Yang could get a better look at him.

Almost the entire upper part of Scott's body was ripped and shredded. It looked as though he had been dragged across a bed of roses several times. Blood was smeared over his chest and his skin was hanging down in small flaps.

The general ran a hand over Scott's chest, causing the younger man to wince and attempt to pull away, but he was held firmly by Dr, Smith and a lackey.

"That looks painful Scott," General Yang said. "But that's what happens when my prisoners don't do as they're told. However, you are one lucky man because you and Alan have been chosen to test a new medical creation, never before used by humans!"

The general turned his attention to Dr Smith. "Take him to the medical room as well and stitch and bandage him up."

"Yes sir," Dr. Smith and the other man started to march Scott out of the room.

"Oh, and Smith?"

The Doctor turned in the doorway to hear what the general had to say.

"No anaesthetic."

………………………………**...................................................................................................................................................................................................................................**

**Yey, another update for you guys!**

**See, I didn****'****t hurt Scotty too much****…****did I?**

**The whole thing with the temporal suitcase and the tinitrine I made up, of course. There****'****s no such thing as tinitrine, but since the series was set in 2026/2065 we can only wonder what scientific discoveries will be made. Maybe a substance called tinitrine will be discovered one day?**

**Maybe not.**

**Anyway, chapter 6 coming soon. However, it may not be ****'****til next week. My laptop****'****s lid has broken and needs repairing.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

_*Any mistakes here are mine. For the disclaimer see Chapter 1. _

…

"So what are we looking for again?" Gordon asked as he and Virgil sat opposite the computer in Brains's lab. A monitor on the wall behind them revealed John's image as he watched the proceedings, ready to provide any of his own information that he found.

"We're looking for any information on Doctor Gerald Smith, his disappearance and anything we can find on him that might be of some use to us," Virgil replied. He typed his password - Beethoven - into the box and pushed the enter button. After being instantly transported to his homepage, complete with a background depicting an image of the Tate Modern Museum, London, he accessed the Internet.

"Now what?" Gordon inquired, "we type Dr Gerald Smith into the search engine?"

Virgil shook his head. "We do that and we'll get millions of results; there's bound to be more than one Dr Gerald Smith in the world. We'll waste time searching for the right person."

"How about adding 'disappearance' to it and the year as well," John suggested. "It might narrow it down a bit."

"It's worth a shot," Virgil agreed, adding the required text to the search engine. Instantly the screen flashed up a list of results, everything from newspaper articles to promotions for Dr Smith's acne vaporising cream.

"Look," Gordon pointed at an article about a third of the way down the page. "_'Doctor Disappears After Chemical Invention.' An expert in the field of Chemistry, Medicine and Botany disappeared after creating a slow acting toxin using the roots of the Rosaceae Aquaticus, a new species of blue rose discovered off the coast of Australia. If fully developed the chemical would have been utilised in penitentiaries as an optional alternative to barbiturates for prisoners on death row. Authority's say that such an invention would have been beneficial because it could be used to execute prisoners efficiently but still give police a chance to extract any last minute information if needed. However, its inventor, Doctor Gerald Smith (40), from Oklahoma City disappeared before its properties could be fully tested. Doctor Smith was last seen walking towards the Santa Fe Depot on Tuesday 30__th__ November 2061. Despite a thorough investigation no trace of the doctor has ever been found, though police continue to follow any leads they may get…_Do you think this could be the guy?_"_

"It certainly sounds like it," Virgil agreed. He studied the rest of the article. "Hmm, it says here that Dr. Smith's wife Helen moved to Detroit about a year after the disappearance. John, do you think you could bring up any information on Helen Smith?"

John nodded. "Leave it to me bro. I'll have information for you in no time."

"But how is information about Helen Smith going to help us find Scott and Alan?" Gordon wanted to know.

"She may have information about her husband that she didn't reveal to the cops," Virgil replied. "Failing that, she'll know his personality and state of mind before the disappearance. That way we may know the type of person we could be dealing with."

"So do you think this Doctor Smith could be dangerous?"

"Gordon, this man most likely has one of the most dangerous toxins in the world on him, he disappears without a trace and could now have two of our brothers captive, or is at least working for someone who does. Something tells me that he may not be the nicest guy."

Gordon nodded and then bit his lip in anxiety. "I hope they don't try and use that stuff on Scott and Al, we could lose them for good otherwise."

Virgil squeezed his younger brother's shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll get them back, I promise."

…**...**

The medical room reminded Alan of the one back on the island; extremely white and clean with an antiseptic like smell wafting around. However, this place didn't give Alan the feelings of reassurance like his own one did. What's more Doctor Gerald Smith didn't treat Alan with the same respect that Brains did. The scientist liked to be as careful and gentle as possible when treating his patients, almost as if they were fine china, but Gerald Smith had no such qualms when it came to handling _his _patients.

Alan found his bruises and burns both poked and prodded as Doctor Smith treated him. He tried not to give the doctor the satisfaction of showing his pain. Instead he bit his lip and turned his head away; maybe if he couldn't see what was going on, the pain would be easier to ignore. This plan lasted for about five minutes until Doctor Smith suddenly grabbed hold of Alan's shattered kneecap. A terrible pain shot through Alan's leg and he gave a startled cry.

"Did that hurt?" Gerald Smith's voice gave off a disgustingly sweet tone. If Alan wasn't fully aware of the predicament he was in, he could have sworn he was getting a check up…a very weird, tortuous check up.

Gerald Smith twisted Alan's knee again. This time the astronaut's pained cry was slightly louder. Sweating, he glared at the doctor with a look that clearly said, 'if I wasn't strapped down I would kill you.'

The doctor merely smiled and shrugged. "My, you're a loud patient, aren't you. Why don't you try being like your brother over there; he hasn't said a word since he was brought in?"

As Alan looked across the room to where his older brother was also being treated by Doctor White, one of Smith's assistants, he felt it would be redundant of him to point out that Scott was being quiet because a giant brute of a soldier currently had his left hand clamped tightly over his mouth, while his right arm was wrapped around Scott's neck in a headlock.

Doctor White had taken General Yang's 'No anaesthetic' words to heart and had ordered Scott's wounds to merely be cleaned with iodine and sewn. Each time the needle pierced his skin, Scott's body would automatically jerk with the pain as he tried to get away, only to have the brutish soldier hold him back.

Alan cringed as he watched. His brother's body was shredded and bloody, but that wasn't what had Alan worried: it was the look of fear on Scott's face and his pain filled eyes, which would occasionally dart around the room.

Suddenly Alan caught Scott's eye and his brother's facial expression morphed almost naturally from pain to concern and he mouthed something.

Alan may have been on the other side of the room but he knew exactly what Scott had just said:

"Are you ok?"

'Damn it!' Alan thought. 'Why did he always have to do that?' Scott could have been dying a thousand times over, and yet his number one concern would always be the safety of his brothers. Alan admitted that he enjoyed having someone around who cared for him as much as Scott did, someone whom he could share his worries with when Gordon either wasn't around or wouldn't take him seriously. However, there were also times - like this one - when it drove him up the wall.

Nevertheless, Alan knew that now wasn't really the time to moan about his brother's 'paternal' instincts. Instead he forced a smile and gave a quick nod to show that he was putting up with the situation as best as he knew how.

Scott returned the nod and then suddenly jerked again as the needle and thread were pulled through one of his deep cuts.

"Can't you give him something?" Alan pleaded to Dr. Smith, who was busy dressing the last of Alan's burns.

"No can do," Dr. Smith replied. "General Yang's orders. I don't want to find myself in the firing line if he finds out I disobeyed him. Besides, I think your brother is tough enough to ride it out; my men are almost done with him. It will then be time to test out my Enigma."

"What the hell is this Enigma?" Alan demanded to know.

"Oh, something very special, and you two will be the first ones to try it out."

…**...**

"Good news guys, I found an address for Helen Smith." John was feeling slightly more relieved than he had been since he had discovered two of his brothers were missing. Now with this information they could at least find something out about this Dr. Smith.

Virgil and Gordon had since retreated back to the lounge. Gordon, who seemed to be hyped up, was busy pacing a hole in the carpet. The more calmer Virgil was sat at his piano, although the lid was currently shut - not that he was in any mood to play it.

Jeff was at his usual place, seated behind his desk, though as soon as John had made his announcement he jumped up and came around to the other side.

"Let's here it then John," Jeff got straight to the point. "What have you discovered?"

"Well I decided it would be easier to look up more on this Dr. Smith, since I presumed there would be more information on him, then track his wife that way. Lo and behold, turns out this guy has his own small website - of course he hasn't updated it since he disappeared - and there was a section about his private life, including the fact that his wife is a nurse at the Henry Ford Hospital.

"That's great son," Jeff said. "Right, here's what we're going to do: Gordon, I want you to fly down to the hospital and see if you can find this Helen Smith and talk to her. Find out anything she knows about her husband and his disappearance."

"What about me, Father?" Virgil asked. "Shall I go with him?"

"No, son, I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Why not?"

Jeff sighed. "Don't take this the wrong way son, but we need to handle this delicately, and for that Gordon is the better person. He's more proficient at making casual conversation, which is what we really need right now. We don't want to scare this woman off and if I send you out there I'm worried it will turn into an interrogation and we don't want that."

Virgil frowned. "But Father…"

Jeff held up his hand to stall his son's argument. "No, Virgil, my decision is made. Besides, there's something else I need you to do: take Thunderbird Three and go and pick up your brother."

"You want me to come back?" John asked.

"Yes, John, we're going to need all the help we can down here. Therefore, I am going to have Tin-Tin replace you. Is that ok Tin-Tin?" Jeff looked over at where the young Malaysian stood in the doorway.

"Yes, Mr. Tracy. That's fine with me."

Jeff smiled. "Good girl." It wasn't very often that Tin-Tin took a shift on International Rescue's satellite, however she was just as well trained as the rest of them in handling the workings that came with being Thunderbird Five's monitor.

Virgil had resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't be accompanying Gordon, though that didn't mean that he was ok with it. "Gordon, if anything happens contact me and I'll come down right away, you got that?"

Gordon refrained from his usual sarcastic, "yes Mother" and instead merely smiled and nodded before disappearing towards the hangar.

After Gordon had left, Virgil turned back to his father. "When do you want me to leave?"

"Well there's no time like the present," Jeff replied. "Are you ready John?"

"I will be by the time he gets here, Sir."

"Very well son. Virgil, off you go." Jeff activated the controls that would send Virgil into the bowels of the island where they stored Thunderbird Three.

…**...**

Inside the spacecraft, Virgil went through the pre-flight checks in the meticulous manner that he always did, especially since he wouldn't have a co-pilot for this leg of the journey. Luckily, Three could be flown just as well with only a single astronaut at the helm, though they usually only did this with runs to and from Thunderbird Five. Try mentioning this particular fact to Alan though; it was the cause of much 'discussion' between Jeff and his youngest son, who insisted that he didn't need a 'babysitter' when he took his precious craft up into the atmosphere. Jeff had pointed out that it wasn't piloting Thunderbird Three that required two people, it was the rescue afterwards: if someone was required to go outside then another would be needed to remain in the craft to keep an eye on the systems. Alan had reluctantly agreed to this point and was further pacified when Gordon had pointed out that even though Scott accompanied Alan on Three, the young blonde was still in charge, and how often did Alan get the opportunity to issue commands to his big brother?

"Thunderbird Three to base requesting permission to launch," Virgil's voice was and business-like.

The reply from his father was an immediate, "Permission granted, safe journey son."

"Thank-you Father."

The rumbling of Thunderbird Three's engines was drowned out by the soundproof walls until the silo opened and the rocket took to the skies, allowing the sound to echo around the Island. Jeff Tracy stood on the balcony and watched as the craft disappeared out of site.

…**...**

Having had his burns and other injuries treated, Alan watched in silent fury as Gerald Smith's underling, Doctor White, finished sewing his older brother up. Smith had momentarily left the room in order to fetch what he referred to as the "Enigma", leaving just Doctor White and the brutish soldier left. The fight had all but left Scott, who had become too exhausted to struggle anymore and mere sat slumped in his seat as the last of his wounds were stitched. His head had flopped down, so Alan could only see his mop of dark hair. The blonde was worried that Scott had passed out and the thought that he would be left alone filled him with dread. The soldier that had been holding onto Scott stood a couple of centimetres behind, ready to make a move should Scott stir again.

Five minutes later the last of Scott's wounds had been stitched. Doctor White nodded to the brutish soldier, beckoning him forward. "O'Connor, I need you to hold him while I wrap the gauze around him."

O'Connor gave a curt nod and moved forward to do as he was told. Doctor White slowly undid the arm straps and pulled the pilot up so that he could work easier. O'Connor held onto him while Doctor White moved towards a cabinet in order fetch the gauze.

However, moving Scott caused the pilot to seemingly snap back to reality. Realising that his arms were now free he started to struggle slightly, flailing his arms and attempting to push O'Connor off of him.

"Get off me!" the pilot growled menacingly. "I swear to God if you don't, you will regret it."

Despite being the larger of the two, O'Connor found himself struggling with Scott, whose determination to get free and protect his little brother seemed to give him extra strength, despite his injuries.

Seeing that the soldier was struggling, Doctor White dropped the gauze and attempted to assist O'Connor in calming the prisoner.

Pinning Scott's arms to his sides, Doctor White leaned close to him. "Stop struggling!" he growled. "You're only going to make it worse."

But the pilot refused to listen and continued to thrash from side to side. "Let…go…!"

Across the room Alan watched with wide, anxious eyes, at the struggle taking place. He wanted to cry out, to tell them to stop, but for some reason he couldn't. He understood why Scott was struggling so much; his brother _hated _hospitals, _hated _being treated, even if it was serious. Alan had always wondered why this was though. Sure, no one liked being in a hospital, but if it meant getting the treatment you needed then surely it was worth it? John, the most intellectual of the brothers, deduced that the hatred stemmed from Scott's greatest fears: feeling both useless and out of control.

"_But what does that have to do with hospitals?" _Alan had asked John.

"_Think about it, Al,"_ the older blonde replied. _"Hospital's bring out both of Scott's anxieties in a big way. Being in a hospital means that you need treatment and that means that you are useless and not in control. Someone like Scott doesn't like that. It's the same when one of us is hurt, Scott feels useless because he can't do anything to help us. You know how 'mothering' our big brother can be."_

_Alan smiled. Boy, did he ever know._

"What is going on here?"

The stern voice snapped Alan out of his thoughts. He looked towards the door of the room where Gerald stood with his arms folded across his chest. "Honestly, White, I leave you alone for five minutes and all hell breaks loose."

Doctor White who still had Scott's arms pinned, looked apologetically towards the older man. "Sorry sir. Scott here won't stop struggling and listen to reason."

Doctor Smith smiled and shook his head. He started to walk across the room. "He'll listen White, you just have to give him the right incentive." Reaching the same cabinet from which Doctor White had retrieved the gauze, he pulled out syrringe and a bottle of clear liquid. He turned and held them up so that the struggling pilot could see them.

"If you don't stop struggling I will be forced to use this."

Scott growled. "What's that?"

"This is a strong sedative," Gerald Smith explained. "If you do not calm down I _will _use it on you and as a result you will be knocked out for several hours."

The threat didn't seem to work as Scott attempted to jerk his arms out of Doctor White's grasp.

"Think about it Scott," Doctor Smith continued. "If you're knocked out then _anything_ can happen to young Alan over there, and you won't be able to help him because you didn't listen to reason." The word "anything" came out as a threatening snarl.

Scott froze suddenly. He looked from the contents in Doctor Smith's hands then at Alan, who was staring at him with a feeling of dread. Being burned and injured, Scott knew that there wasn't any way that Alan could put up much of a fight should they decide to torture his little brother more.

Coming to a descision, Scott slumped in his seat, hanging his head and allowing his struggling arms to go limp. He hated it when people used his brothers against him, mostly because it _always_ worked. His protectiveness for his siblings was both his greatest strength and weakness and people knew this. If his brothers were struggling in an ocean storm, then Scott would rather die trying to save all of them, rather than allowing just one to drown.

"Good man, I knew you would see sense." Doctor Smith smiled in satisfaction. "Doctor White, you may continue to dress Scott's wounds, I don't think he'll give you any more trouble, will you pilot?"

Scott gave a small shake of his head, indicating that he would do as he was told.

The pilot remained still, while his upper torso was wrapped up. O'Connor held him forward so that Doctor White could reach the gauze around Scott's back. Afterwards, his arms were strapped down again.

"Excellent," Doctor Smith remarked. "You may leave us now."

The two men saluted and vacated the room. Gerald Smith watched the door shut and then turned to the two men. "Right gentleman, today is a great honour for both of you because you are about to become the first test subject of a marvellous concoction." He pulled a syrringe out of his coat pocket, filled with a dark blue liquid. "This is Enigma, a very slow acting poison, so called because when it was tested on animal subjects every single one of them showed different side effects before succumbing to the poison. It has never before been tested on humans…until now."

Doctor Smith held up the syrringe. "So…which one of you men would like to be the first to make history?"

…**...**

…**...**

**So that's what this 'Enigma' is!**

**What? You didn't think it was going to be anything good, did you?**

**Hee hee. **

**Finished my first year of Uni a couple of days ago. I wanted to concentrate on that before I started updating again. But now I'm home for the Summer so it's Fanfiction! Fanfiction! Fanfiction! **


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